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“Oh, I think it is!” She gasps for breath, and I put my hand to my hip, waiting for her to be done. A few seconds pass before she composes herself, saying, “Only you would be out on a date with a guy with a foot fetish.”
I cringe at the memory. I had agreed to show this guy around town, but clearly, he thought it was something else, or at least thought he would get something out of it. Throughout our dinner, I tried to talk to him about the places I would show him around town, but all he focused on was my foot I had sticking out from under the table. It was like he was lost in a trance and, at first, I thought he was sick. I had asked if he wanted to go home and if he was okay, but only then he looked up with a strange look of hunger, sweat beading around his forehead, before he asked if I wanted a foot rub.
Choosing to ignore the weirdness, I remember the agreement with my mother, when he pushed and kept asking to give me a foot rub. It took me tucking my foot back under the table and a very firm ‘no’ before he focused on what I was saying. I continued to talk about a couple of hotspots to go to for a good time and tried to ask what he was interested in, but the conversation was silenced when I suddenly felt a strange, socked foot gliding over my exposed toes. I tried to compose myself, but I could see the slight twinkle in his eye, and it was clear that this guy was not used to hearing the word ‘no’. Unsure of how to get out of this without hurting him and getting myself in shit with my parents, I quickly excused myself and sprinted towards the bathroom with my purse and phone. Now, here we are.
I roll my eyes at the phone. “No, only my parents would make me take one out without having any knowledge of this or even caring.”
“To be fair, I doubt anyone would know. People often don’t announce their fetishes.”
I can't help but roll my eyes again, irritation bunching up my shoulders. “This guy should come with a warning label.”
Growling into the phone, I think about what I could be doing tonight. I could be out listening to a live band, getting lost in the music and the atmosphere. I could be at home with a giant pizza and a glass of wine with Jason Voorhees. I could be at Ava’s house right now, hanging out and playing with little Charlie. But instead, I am here.
“So what are you doing to do? Put on your big girl panties and finish the date, or be a coward and run?”
I run my hand through my hair again, pulling at the roots, my eyes darting over every surface of the bathroom until they land on a bathroom window. A smile slowly appears on my face but stops when I think of how pissed off my parents would be at me for ditching their friends' son. I approach the door, risking a look at our table, where he sits sipping his water, and I think maybe I could brave it for a little while. He can’t help what he likes, and I’ll just have to be upfront with him.
And then he takes his finger and shoves it up his nose.
No.
Then he does the unthinkable.
Before I see his finger go into his mouth, I retreat back into the bathroom, knowing my stomach can’t handle that. I gasp and press my back into the wall, decision made. “Yeah, I’m a coward, and I’m fucking running.”
“What? What happened?”
“He is disgusting. I can’t do it.”
She laughs. “Is it really worth your parents' wrath?”
“How is it different from any other day?” I ask, tucking my purse into my bra as best as I can and holding my phone to my ear with my shoulder as I use the top of the toilet to prop me up to reach the window, which is just big enough for me to fit through.
I groan into the phone, and Ava asks, “What are you doing?”
“I’m climbing out of a bathroom window.”
She laughs, then trails off, “Oh, you’re serious?”
“You bet,” I say, pulling myself up, gritting my teeth.
“You know you could just go out the main entrance and he probably won’t notice.”
I’m panting now, half in, half out. “Not chancing it.”
She laughs again. “Okay, well, I’m going to leave you to it. Good luck, mission impossible.”
She hangs up, and I awkwardly tuck my phone into my back pocket. As I do this, a woman comes in and freezes when she sees me, and I watch the thoughts pass through her face. Concern for my mental health, curious as to what I am doing, and then understanding as she nods, giving me a small smile.
“One of those nights, hun?” She raises a brow before sashaying into one of the available stalls.
I’m almost completely out and I start to feel a little guilty, but how many guys do I need to take out for my parents? I’m not their whore they can give out to their friends' sons. And it is always the sons. Not once have my parents asked me to take out any daughters, just their sons. Maybe they are hopeful I'll marry rich, but each guy they put before me only makes me want to avoid rich guys all together.
Maybe they are not all bad or weird, but I have yet to meet one that isn’t.
Maybe that is how I give a final push through the window and lower myself onto the ground outside, to show my parents that they can try as hard as they want, but I will not allow them to choose the guy for me. I allow them to control everything else, but that choice, I want to be mine.
CHAPTER 2
